


And We'll Rule The World Tomorrow

by Leni



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season One-ish House/Cameron. AR, and possibly WAFF (well, as waff-y as House can get). <i>"That's the beauty of Cameron's plan. Nobody could ever have seen it coming."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	And We'll Rule The World Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aiffe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiffe/gifts).



> Written for Aiffe at [Halloween Candy 2010](http://community.livejournal.com/kitteninthedark/183593.html)

Perhaps Wilson is spending too much time saving the unsalvageable in the Oncology ward, because Cuddy is the first to stomp into the Diagnostic Department, heels clicking their battle cry in plain view of baffled nurses, clueless patients and his three ugly ducklings. All in order to squeeze the truth out of him.

It's the lower neckline that does him in, House mulls later. Coupled with Cuddy's heavier breaths as she tries not to beat him with the handle of his own cane. "I'm not letting you fire her if it blows up," she tells him, fixing him with that glare that means, yes, she means it, and she can cut off his regular Vicodin source if she puts her mind into it.

"When," he corrects. " _When_ it blows up."

The glare morphs into something that would be pitying if it wasn't mixed with disgust. "Does that girl even realize what she's gotten herself into?"

"Nope. That's the beauty of it." He grins and waves at his ducklings through the glass wall. Blondie and Frownie nod back, mostly in acknowledgement of the Dean of Medicine, while his potential swan never tears her gaze of her lap top screen.

She is too easily embarrassed.

Or perhaps his schedule is that chaotic.

House decides to give her the benefit of the doubt, in name of whatever they're starting - and because she drove him to work and it won't do to antagonize her until he's back at his doorstep. Wilson _has_ been buried in work, and prone to look annoyed instead of dismayed the last time House tried to steal him away.

Cuddy takes a long look between him and Cameron, and House can almost read the thoughts as they push at each other in her mind. It must be the regular bar brawl in her head, what with how much she wants to keep Dr. House and how often the need to slap Gregory House's smugness away pops up. "If I ask that you don't drive her away, will you take it into consideration, Greg?"

He thinks back to the last time she called him by name. There might have been a millionaire threat of the Diagnosis Department getting sued involved. "Sure," he says genially. "I'll put my toys back in the shelf after I'm done, mom." Wilson once joked that his was the most evidently full-blown case of Oedipus complex he'd ever had the displeasure to witness. It was the only time House contemplated ending their friendship; wouldn't do to hang out with such obvious jibes. "I'll even make sure the other kids don't mess things up - happy now?"

Cuddy rolls her eyes at the tone, but wags her pointing finger at him anyway. "I'll take you on your word, Lord help me." With that, she turns around and leaves, smiling distractedly at his vassals as she does.

"Chase!" he shouts after the coast is clear, grabbing for his favorite ball and throwing it in the air five times before the scent of pricey aftershave reaches his desk. Record is three throws - Chase is getting slow. Or somehow convinced that his boss must be in a mellower mood. "Find me a case," House barks, eager to prove that he's the same bastard from two weeks ago, before Cameron remembered some dusty New Year's resolution not to take no for an answer and ambushed him in his own bathroom. If he hadn't been too busy trying to drive her away, House may have considered that Karma had come to bite his ass. There must be some adage about never teaching your acolytes to break into private property, or House would make sure it spread around. "Preferably one with a busty brunette as the potential widow-to-be." Chase's eyes widen at that, but no protest in aussie accent is forthcoming. House smirks, mostly to himself. "I knew I could count on you."

Chase almost glances over at his coworker - the one that's actually working; Foreman had fished his crossword back from under some heavy medical text the moment Cuddy walked out of the room, - but stops himself in time. "Cameron's still reviewing the ER cases," he tells House, almost whispering.

House could have wondered when fishing for hopeless cases took precedence over answering his mail, had he not known the answer already: it happened when she asked if they were in a relationship and, still dazzled by the near professional use of her tongue, he had nodded without stopping to think - or poke fun at her for her temerity.

Her timing was impeccable, he has to admit.

It's her newly strengthened work ethics that are giving him a headache.

"Cancel the brunette," he says, and arches an eyebrow at Chase's obvious relief. "Make it a blonde instead."

Time to show who is boss.

 

*

 

The fact that Wilson deserts the bedside of his latest moribund child - and with no parents to stand in! - just to share relationship advice over lunch is so hilarious that House almost forgets to tease his friend about it.

Wilson peeks into his wallet to make sure he's got enough to cover both of them, then continues his scolding, "At least my patient won't make everybody's lives miserable when she gets rightly dumped by the only woman who makes you look passably human."

"Your kid won't live for her first hormonal kick," House responds cruelly, eager to shift their conversation away from Allison. The mere fact that he's thinking of her by her first name instead of the more impersonal 'Cameron', makes him deliberately aim the end of his cane into Wilson's foot.

Wilson's expression wavers between pain and anger, and finally settles on frustration. "Keep flirting with complete strangers, House." The plastic container threatens to fall of his tray, and the red jello wriggles within at Wilson's glare, before he remembers his anger is directed at House. "And don't come whining the day Cameron tires of your shit."

House makes sure to inject his tone with hope, "You think she will?" and gets a devastatingly disappointed headshake in exchange.

"Why would you even agree to dating her?" Wilson asks.

"Cold tile against my back, warm woman in front. And she'd kidnapped my cane before cornering me." He feels his expression soften at the memory, and chases off the sentimentality with a more proper scowl and a double helping of ravioli. "She'd have made me proud if she hadn't been tagging and bagging me."

Wilson blinks up at him, in a state of shock that may not fade for the next forty-eight hours. House knows the feeling. "Corner? Kidnap?" His friend forgets to kick his cane away. "Cameron?"

"I'd like to point out that she learned from the master," House pipes up, reclaiming his due credit. "I expect Chase and Foreman to run for Congress any day now."

But Wilson is already shaking his head, laughing in a way that House knows well and feels is completely inappropriate for the moment. There is no belatedly discovered pun for House's joke here, not at all. Wilson should be reviewing his opinion of Allison, not looking at House with that mix of fond admiration and mild irritation that reminds him why they stay friends. "Right," he snorts. "Sure, House. _Cameron_ plotted against _you_ and came out the winner. That's a good one for the grandkids!"

Panic flares up at Wilson's well-intended assumption, but in the last weeks House has grown used to stomping on such feelings. Not even Allison can be that optimistic, and House is ready to perform a miracle and run away if she even hints at it. Or perhaps just let her catch him and his favorite masseuse on her own couch - he feels confident that will do the trick where everything else has failed so far.

"See," he tells Wilson, who is still chuckling when they reach the cashier. "That's the beauty of Cameron's plan. Nobody could ever have seen it coming."

"Uh-huh." At least his friend is amused enough that he doesn't even make the usual token protest at taking care of House's lunch. "She's the regular mastermind; she'll be going for world control next."

"Hey, she got me already."

Wilson nods, a smirk plastered to his face. "Why try for a planet in conflict, when there's one individual embodying it all?" he asks philosophically.

"I'm a great catch," House informs his friend, reaching over to steal his fries. Wilson doesn't deserve them, making fun of him like that. "And it's too late to turn back, anyway."

It's a sense of accomplishment that fills him when Wilson chokes on his deep-fried fish stick. The amusement is gone when he speaks next, "You actually like her; don't you, Greg?" He doesn't wait for an answer, probably aware that he will only get derisive sarcasm. "Does that girl even realize what she's gotten herself into?"

The question, added to the warningly wagging finger, makes House wonder whether Wilson isn't the silent Freudian case in Princeton-Plainsboro. Chasing away the disturbing vision of a double date to a Hamlet presentation, and never wondering whether that's the first play that comes to mind because of Ophelia or the Queen, House decides that he can trust Wilson with the truth. "Sadly, yes. But at least she's still emotionally needy," and the relief is not completely faked.

Wilson considers that as he chews. "Perhaps Cameron and I need to have a little chat." He looks House in the eye without the littlest bit of remorse. "She can use some pointers about you."

At that, he has to laugh. "Be my guest." Because that _is_ the beauty of Allison's plan, the brilliancy of its simplicity. Everybody is so concerned, so ready to offer her a shoulder to cry on, that they can't appreciate her genius.

Or perhaps it takes one to know one.

"House?" Wilson sounds bewildered. "You're smiling."

House thinks to steal his friend's drink as a cover up, but why bother? "Perhaps I was thinking that she and I are very much alike."

"Thank goodness that's not the case." Wilson's grin widens, continuing the perceived joke. "God have mercy on us, otherwise."

House swallows his 'Indeed', reaches out and drowns the word in Wilson's drink. "God has better wars to fight, Wilson - giving reliable proof of one's existence is tiring business," he says chidingly, mirroring his friend's smile. "Cameron might take offense at the intrusion, too."

For that, he just might keep Allison around.

 

The End  
30/12/10


End file.
